


A designer, an astrophysicist, a dentist, and an engineer walk into a bar… and then onto a stage

by MacandLacy



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Badgers, Band as Family, Cats, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Gen, Hedgehogs, Humor, Music, Professors as family, talent show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-12 13:22:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17468381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MacandLacy/pseuds/MacandLacy
Summary: Dr. May, Dr. Taylor, and Professor Deacon are quiet, respectable, faculty members at Queens College, University of Cambridge, England.  They become unlikely best friends with Freddie Mercury, the famous designer who is the new Artist-in-Residence and guest lecturer.Then they form a band to compete in the faculty talent show.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [americanithink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/americanithink/gifts).



> No one is in any serious relationship. Brian and John are into science, and Roger and Freddie are into having lighthearted fun.
> 
> Gift fic for americanithink who is also the editor for this story. Thank you! Please be sure to check out their amazing stories. 
> 
> Modern day AU: the boys are in their late-20’s to early-30’s. 
> 
> More or less from Brian’s POV.

Chapter One

A college pub was really not the sort of place Dr. Brian May, PhD, would normally be, but he had been invited by several of his favorite students specifically for their first performance as a band, and he really couldn’t say no. He felt a bit better when he spotted several other teachers mingling about, and naturally gravitated toward them. He saw a familiar blond head and smiled, feeling a lot better.

“Hey Roger.”

“Brian!” The dental professor grinned at his friend. “Good to see you here. Damn though, now I lose a bet with John….he said you wouldn’t come to a see a live rock and roll band.”

“John is here?” Brian was truly surprised at that bit of news.

Roger gestured toward the stage where students that Brian recognized as being in the musical group were milling around assorted equipment and wires. In the middle of the group was a man just a few years older than the students, fiddling with the electrical lines and stage controls. “Yeah, we both know he’s not the sort to come to a college pub either, but apparently he promised some of the kids to help set up their homemade equipment. I think he’s hoping to run for the door as soon as the show starts, and I hope we can keep him – and you- out for at least an hour or so.” Roger shoved a beer into Brian’s hand. “Come on now, let’s show these young kids how it’s done.”

Brian snorted in amusement. “The last time I got plastered was the night I was awarded my doctorate. And as for what they call music these days? Heaven forbid. I wouldn’t know where to even start.”

“I know,” Roger sighed in agreement, blue eyes twinkling. “But we promised, so here we are.”

They chatted easily, welcoming John when the engineer threw up his hands and came to the now unofficial faculty table.

“Let them commit mass suicide by electrocution, see if I care,” he muttered under his breath. He blinked as he saw Brian. “Oh, hello Brian.”

“Hi John, good to see you.”

Brian had always liked the quiet, young engineer. He was something of the ‘boy genius’ in the engineering department, having gotten his advanced degrees at a very young age and he had yet to turn 30. He also had a number of engineering patents, if Brian recalled correctly, but loathed attention being called to it. He was Professor John Deacon, C.Eng (Chartered Engineer) but Brian had heard a few faculty members refer to him as ‘Professor D’ and the ‘D’ may not have been intended in a nice manner. Roger had heard that once and had nearly started a fight in one of the faculty cafeterias defending his friend. John was the youngest full faculty member at the entire college, and Brian and Roger had always looked after him a bit. 

“Come on sit and stay a bit,” Roger urged the youngest man. “I saved you a seat. And a pint,” he added with a grin.

John sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I promised them that I would stay for their set,” he agreed reluctantly. “If for no other reason than to try to prevent mass murder by electricity if that homemade amp explodes.”

“There’s the spirit,” Roger said cheerfully. “Come on, sit and join us. You got both of us here with you, mate.” Brian had to smile at Roger’s enthusiasm.

Roger was a long-time friend, but a tad of a contradiction. Totally serious when he was Dr. Taylor, DMD (Doctor of Dental Medicine) and a much sought-after lecturer for classes and as a medical student mentor. But off duty he could be a bit of a party animal when in the right mood; Brian received texts now and then from Roger at ungodly hours, showing pics of him closing out a pub with a rotation of lovely lady friends. However, Brian also knew that the muttered student rumors were true: Dr. Taylor had a strict policy of never dating current or past students or colleagues. More than one student (male and female) had bemoaned that fact. 

Brian considered Roger’s policy to be a sound personal stand, not that he himself had much of a dating policy; he was pretty busy with his work and teaching and did wonder how Roger found the time to date. (He didn’t really know it, but he was also oblivious, because he had once been asked if he had a policy “like Dr. Taylor does”. He had squinted – he’d been looking through a telescope for the previous hour – and politely said: ”I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear you?” The student had quickly excused themselves, not wanting to embarrass their teacher).

The three professors visited a while, all three wincing when the live band started. It was only loyalty to their assorted students that kept them past the opening song and John looked rather in pain. Fortunately, Roger had chosen a table that was as far away from the stage as possible, and the men could still converse without too much shouting. When the band took a break, it was Brian’s turn to get a round of beers and he headed for the bar.

It took a while to get the attention of a bartender, because there was an unusually large swarm of students at one corner of the bar. When the crowd of young adults parted for a second, Brian saw a man his age sitting, holding court, as it were, at the bar, laughing and joking with the students around him. A DJ had taken over the dance floor and some of the group went away to dance, giving the man a bit of a break.

Brain exchanged a polite nod, thinking that the man somehow looked vaguely familiar. Short jet-black hair and a mustache that shouldn’t have looked so good, but it did. Unlike Brian, Roger and John, however, who were dressed in sensible professors’ garb of neat trousers and jackets, this man had on tight black jeans, a red top, and jewelry. Brian himself had exactly one ear piercing, now long closed. 

“Quite the scene tonight, eh?” the man half-yelled through the noise, smiling. Brian chuckled in return.

“Actually, my friends and I are just trying to last through this band,” he admitted. “Thankfully, our students are the opening act. Doubt I could last for the main attraction.”

The man laughed. “Same reason I’m here,” he agreed. “The lead singer is a student of mine. But surely you mean to go onto a real pub after this is over, right? It’s a lovely Saturday night with no classes tomorrow. I offered to hold classes on a Sunday and was politely told it was against univ policy, so no excuses to not enjoy the evening.”

Ah, so he was a teacher. Brian felt a bit better at there being some connection. He must have seen him at faculty gatherings; that was why he looked a bit familiar. “No classes, no,” he agreed. “However, there is a meteor shower that I need to keep an eye on.” He took a deep breath and extended his hand. “Brian May, Astrophysics.”

“I’m Freddie, Freddie Mercury. Graphic Design and Art.” His handshake was as warm as his smile.

“Oh, right.’ Something finally clicked in Brian’s head. “You’re the chap with the mega-business right? Guest lecturing this year? That’s really nice of you.”

“The business can take care of its self, finally,” Freddie smiled modestly. “I’m glad to be of some help with the next generation.” 

Brian smiled back, vaguely now recalling a wave of publicity when the famous designer had come to teach for the year and be the official Artist-in-Residence. Freddie Mercury was fashion designer to the rich and famous for clothing and decorating, and he was rich and famous himself. There were even rumors of work for the Royal Family, which had caused a huge excitement at the college. Enrollment in the graphic arts department had never been so high. 

They chatted for a few minutes as Brian waiting for his drinks, and Brian was quietly bemused at the group of college students dancing and enjoying themselves. Ah, to be young again.

“You aren’t exactly old,” Freddie suddenly said, and Brian laughed.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“Heavens, no worries. In fact I’ve had similar feelings now and then since coming back to university. I was always the young rising star. Now? I am merely a star.” He looked falsely smug, poking fun at himself, and Brian had to laugh. 

“Well if you aren’t too much of a star, they why don’t you come join the other old fogies,” Brian gestured toward the table that Roger and Brian had claimed; the one furthest away from the stage so as to provide the least amount of noise. He knew Roger wouldn’t mind, and they did have an extra chair at the table. John would be okay as long as Brian and Roger were with him. It seemed only polite to extend an offer to a fellow teacher. “Assuming your…er…fans, can spare you, of course,” he added as several young women nearby batted eyes at the designer.

Freddie beamed. “I would be delighted.” He picked up his drink and followed Brian.

“Chaps, I found another teacher at the bar,” Brian introduced them all. “Freddie Mercury, Graphic Arts; meet Roger Taylor, Dentistry and Biology, and John Deacon, Electrical Engineering.”

Roger extended a hearty handshake, always ready to meet new people. He seemed to know who Freddie was, and immediately said something about a style design that Brian didn’t understand but made Freddie laugh. John was his usual more reserved self, but Freddie didn’t seem to notice or mind one bit.

“So all four of us were talked into coming here for students, right?” Freddie asked, making himself at home at the table. The other three men sighed in agreement. “Come now, music aside, it isn’t that bad. Maybe we can find some bars for grown-ups when this is over.”

“John is usually too busy tinkering with electricity,” Roger explained to Freddie, but with a friendly smile, so John wouldn’t take offense. The engineer just shrugged. “And Brian looks through his telescope far too much. You’re right, there are some grown up pubs nearby, and I’m happy to show you around, but I can never talk these two into getting through the doorway.”

“He has tried and failed,” Brian admitted to Freddy. 

“I’m not much for pubs,” John offered quietly, still making it clear that he was making a sacrifice to be present at this point.

Freddie smiled warmly. “Well then, Roger, when our students are finished, how about you and I go on a tour of a local place or two?”

“Oh, please, don’t encourage him,” Brian sighed. Roger’s eyes just lit up in anticipation. 

“Are you sure? The places around here must be rather bland compared to a designers London lifestyle,” Roger said with a smile.

“Nonsense,” Freddie assured him. He then turned to John. ‘Now, John, I don’t mean to talk shop, but I do have an engineering question if you don’t mind.”

John looked up, surprised, but with a hesitant smile. “Um, yes?”

“I’ve always wondered about the design of something, and you might be just the chap who could answer it—“and with that Freddie was asking extremely intelligent questions about construction. It was as if he had read the youngest man’s mind, and the engineer was soon talking more than Brian or Roger had ever heard him before outside the lecture hall. Freddie just listened, asked for clarification when appropriate, and Brian and Roger exchanged shrugs. Anyone who could get John out of his shell was alright by them.  


The band started up again, and they all winced. Good grief, the second half was even worse.

“What ever happened to good music?” Freddie lamented after John had finished explaining how electricity worked on the international space station.

“Good music; the 90’s?” Roger guessed.

“Don’t be absurd.”

“80’s?”

“Punk and New Wave? I should think not.”

Roger looked hopeful. “The 70’s?” he tried. Brian had to smile, since he knew that was both his and Roger’s favorite era of music.

Freddie’s face lit up in a smile. ‘’Yes!” he exclaimed. “Finally, someone who appreciates good music.” He held up a hand in warning. “But not disco.”

“Lord no,” John interjected, and his tone was firm. “Classic good rock,” he said. He saw the looks of mild surprise on Brian and Roger’s faces, and blushed a little. “I listen to music…good music” he said, a tad defensively. 

“Oh course you do, dear,” Freddie beamed. “You know what you like, and that is what’s important.” John blushed, and just like that, the famous designer had been allowed a step into John’s tiny circle of friends. This Freddie Mercury definitely had some kind of magic.

They talked about music while the band continued and the bar became more and more crowded. Brian was relieved when the opening act was done and their obligation to the students was over. “I think we can leave,” he said, smiling at John. “No explosions; good job.” At Freddie’s questioning look, he grinned. “John was helping students wire up their homemade equipment. Trying to prevent any accidents.”

Freddie beamed at the youngest teacher. “Very good of you to help, them.” John looked embarrassed again, but pleased. 

“Leaving sounds good to me,” Roger agreed. John was already reaching for his coat. Roger turned to Freddie with a smile. “Care to try that pub hopping? And can we talk you into it, Brian and John?”

Brian chuckled. “You go on ahead,” he said. I’m out at night only to see the stars.” He turned to Freddie and grinned. “Present company excluded, of course.”

Freddie laughed. “I’m sure the stars you follow are much brighter and smarter than those I hang out with. How about a compromise? I have found a lovely coffee bar nearby – very quiet, I promise,” he said to John with a reassuring smile. “But still with plenty of alcohol. How does that sound?”

Roger was bouncing on his heels. “I’m game,” he said cheerfully. “Come on, you two,” he encouraged the other professors. 

Brian was more than a bit bemused. The evening was not turning out as he had planned, but still, it was very good. “I’ll go,” he agreed. “The sky is too cloudy for good observation anyway and the mainframe computer is already booked.” He looked at the engineer. “John?” he asked gently, encouraging, but not wanting to push.

John bit his lip, and Brian was sure he was going to decline, but Freddie came forward. 

“Come now, please let me buy you a cup of coffee,” he said cheerfully. “As thanks for all the engineering assistance. I really cannot thank you enough, my dear. Just one coffee, I promise, and then we shall call it a night.”

“Al-alright,” John conceded. 

“That’s the spirit,” Freddie said, happily and slung a gentle arm around the younger man, guiding him to the door. Roger grinned and Brian shook his head as they followed the other men outside. It had taken them months to get John to agree to even come out to dinner, and here Freddie had definitely worked some magic not just on John but apparently on them as well. Brian decided he was simply going to roll with it.

Twenty minutes later they were at a quiet, relaxed, establishment seated in a booth and chatting. Brian and John stuck to plain decaf coffee, but Freddie and Roger quickly bonded over a fondness for coffee with booze.

That evening was the first of many visits for the four as they found that they really had a great deal in common and got along quite well. Freddie announced they had similar enough schedules to meet for lunch or tea on most school days, immediately organizing meetings, and it was a sign of his trust that John was usually willing to come out of his lab or office to join them. For all that he was a famous and wealthy designer, Freddie was really one of the most modest and polite people around, and he never dropped any names despite Roger occasionally fishing for gossip about celebrity clients (Brian and John would just sip their drinks or eat their meal, usually having no idea who the people were that Roger and Freddie were discussing). Freddie in turn kept everyone upbeat and positive, was truly interested in the sciences, and always asked intelligent questions. He could draw John out of his usual quiet shell, and once listened sympathetically and intently for 30 minutes while John complained bitterly about a student science project gone wrong that had apparently involved potatoes. 

But for the most part, they bonded over music and simply being a good blend of personalities. Brian and John kept an eye on Roger and Freddie when they got into a drinking contest at a pub one night, and Roger and Freddie made sure that Brian and John left their labs and saw the light of day (or stars of night) on a regular basis. They met for lunch most days at the faculty dinning hall, and at least a few nights a week at a pub for dinner and drinks.

They became good mates.


	2. Rebellion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do professors and designers rebel? They flirt, grow their hair long, are secret evil geniuses, and run away to school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the kudos, comments, and bookmarks! And as always, special thanks to americanithink for reading over the chapter and giving advice and love.

Brian sometimes wondered why Freddie Mercury, famous graphic artist and designer, was hanging out with three science/medical professors, and not fellow artists. Freddie didn’t socialize at all, that he knew of, with the Art departments, which is where one naturally thought he would gravitate toward. But Brian was too polite to ask about Freddie’s personal life regarding partying or who he chose to hang out with, and didn’t want to pry. Naturally, it was Roger who brought it up, the jerk.

They were at what was quickly becoming one of their favorite pubs, a nice quiet place just off campus where no music was ever played (except “God Save the Queen” and the fight songs of local football clubs) and you had to unofficially be at least 30 years of age to even enter the door, which was why it was frequented by some people for that very reason. John was allowed in only because the owner knew his family, and even he would unwind in the pub with a few glasses of wine or a pint of beer as long as he had his friends around him. Plus the food was good and simple. All in all, it was a nice place to meet.

But even with the understood (and owner enforced) age restriction, more than one young “artist” seemed to find Freddie and would sneak in to either flirt with him or just openly slap down their portfolio and ask Freddie to look it over. Freddie was always polite, but firm.

“Sorry dear,” he told one extremely lovely young lady one evening about a month after the four of them had started hanging out together. “But first, you are too young for this establishment. Two, you are too young for me. Three, I am officially taking the year off – enroll in one of my classes if you like – here’s the Registrar’s card. And fourth and most importantly, I am here with my mates. Hope to see you in *class*, darling,” and turned his back on her. The girl fled, followed by several others.

“Alright, Fred,” Roger said, slamming back his pint. “I just got to know. You have uh…groupies or whatever you artists call them….hanging on you night and day. God, I checked your Wikipedia page –”

“You have a Wikipedia page?” Brian interrupted; very unusual for him, but he was really truly surprised. It had never once occurred to him to check for such a thing.

“Of course, he does,” John interjected, calmly. “And a website.” 

“Well, of course a website for professional stuff,” Brian said, still bemused. “But really, you looked him up on Wikipedia?”

Roger held up a hand. “Sorry, Fred, but full admission here; I did google you. Once. I’m sorry. It was rude to do an internet search on someone you see as a friend. Seems kind of creepy, now that I think of it.” Damn, Brian acknowledged, underneath the rebellious side, Roger was loyal as Hell.

“No apologies necessary, darling, though I hope you don’t believe what is on the internet or in the papers,” Freddie said in an almost apologetic tone to John and Brian. 

“It all seemed like crap,” Roger agreed. “Still, I’m sorry, mate. I was curious. But I feel bad about it, honestly. Now that I think about it, it seems pretty rude to look up stuff about a friend online.”

Freddie chuckled. “Apology fully accepted.” He grinned and there was a definitely twinkle in his dark eyes. “And just so we’re a tad bit more even, I have cyber stalked each of *your* university links and websites.”

“And fell right asleep, right?” Roger said, encouraged. “Just class info, published papers, and a ridiculous bio written by our offices. We are beyond boring. And you are *choosing* to hang out with us? You can do so much better, mate. So can I for that matter!” Both Brian and John huffed in mock indignation, and Roger grinned at them. “I know these guys and am stuck with them, or maybe they are stuck with me. Whatever. But, come on, I mean, seriously? The famous artist hanging out with three nerds?”

“Seriously?” Freddie smiled back and all could tell that he was completely relaxed and honest. “That young lady, and her friends, are what are charitably referred to as ‘Star Fuckers’.” He looked apologetically at John for his language, and the engineer kindly gestured for him to continue. “They only want to brag that they slept with the famous, and often they are not at all particular about which kind of famous. It’s not about art or design; Hell, she and those others have likely never once even glanced at my work. They just know the name and want me to be a notch on their bedpost.” His dark eyes traveled over three professors, and smiled while batting his long lashes. “Now, however, if any of *you* are looking for a notch—”

Brian, who had the longest legs, gently kicked Freddie under the table, and they all had a good chuckle. “No, honestly, mates, I hang out with you because I like you and you like me for *who* I am. Not for what I am. Does that make sense?” Freddie implored, and they all nodded. 

The Freddie they had gotten to know over the past month was sincere, humble, and very protective around John, which had endeared him quickly to Brian and Roger. It was this personal side that he always had when around the three men, and the occasional teasing was just part of Freddie’s default personality. John blushed a lot, but also smiled even more than he blushed, which was a miracle.

“Ah, so that is also why you don’t hang out much with those in the Art departments,” Brian finally realized. Freddie had adopted Roger’s rule of not dating students or colleagues, much to the dismay of a number of faculty and student body. Even Brian had heard mutterings in the faculty dining halls about how Freddie Mercury, Artist-in-Residence, was not socializing with fellow artists except when absolutely necessary for school. Freddie seemed to have effortlessly carved out a very exclusive group for non-school hours that consisted of only the three scientists. 

“Exactly,” Freddie gave a dramatic shudder. “One needs a separate and fresh perspective, and as much as I love my work and am having a ball with teaching, I am quite certain most of those in the art departments – students and faculty - are only after one thing in the evenings, and it’s not my conversation, no matter how good it may be.” Roger snorted while Brian and John grinned. “Besides,” Freddie continued, “I’d like to keep it quiet, but I’m a student myself actually. Finishing my Ph.D. Got all the coursework done; just needed to be on-site for the doctoral supervision, and it is *not* from the Arts department, thank you very much. So, I am working; just not officially.”

“Wow. So what is the topic and department?” Roger asked, intrigued.

Freddie’s dark eyes twinkled. “Influences of Ancient Indian design as observed in trade routes in Mesopotamia,” he recited. “The degree will come from the History department.”

The other three men blinked. “Okay, yeah, I can see that not being something one would expect,” Roger finally said, taking a long sip of his beer as he pondered this revelation.

“I know, right?” Freddie chuckled. “I like to surprise folks. Except you, my dear,” he nodded to John, who made a gesture indicating gratitude. “I went to boarding school in India, and the culture and history of the area has been such a huge influence in my career. I have my degree in Design already; decided it was time to expand my horizons and go back to something I’ve always loved but just never had time to explore before. But now the business can take care of itself for a time while I indulge.”

“Yeah, but….history,” Roger chuckled. “Ancient Indian history. Not exactly what one would expect, now, is it?”

“Exactly!” Freddie agreed, laughing at himself. “I like to keep folks guessing at what I may do next. And my degree was sort of unfinished business. Plus, I am going through a rebellious phase, so it all seemed to work out quite nicely.”

“Rebelling by attending university?” Brian chuckled. “Getting a Ph.D?”

“Exactly, my dear. That is the last thing most would expect from me; ergo, rebelling.”

“I think it’s good you’re finishing your degree,” John offered. Freddie beamed at the younger man in appreciation, cementing the bond that they seemed to already have.

“Well, I can understand the rebellion aspect of it for you,” Roger allowed. “Not at all what people would anticipate, is it? The famous designer running away to university.” He raised his glass. “To rebellion!” he said cheerful and all toasted even though all privately wondered at John’s rebellion. Ah, well, it was his own business. “Hell, we all have rebellious parts of us. You run away to school; I like to party when off duty. And then there is Brian and his hair.”

Brian blushed. His hair had been a rather sore point his entire life. “If it’s too short, the curls stand straight up,” he told Roger defensively for the thousandth time. “So it’s either this or shave it all off.” His hair was somewhere between his chin and his shoulders, which he considered to be more than long enough, and already plenty rebellious for a professor. Curly hair was totally wasted on men, in his opinion. 

“Darling, if you cut your hair any shorter, I will have to kill you,” Freddie said firmly, and Brian suspected he was only half joking. “In fact, you need to grow it longer.”

Roger slapped the table. “That’s what I’ve been telling him for years!” he exclaimed. “Come on Freddie, you tell him and maybe he’ll listen to you.”

“Here, let me show you some pictures of what I’m thinking,” Freddie said, grabbing his phone.

“No, no one is thinking about my hair!” Brian refused to look at the phone, so Freddie showed pictures to Roger, who hummed thoughtfully.

“Yeah, I like that style,” he agreed, pointing at something on Freddie’s phone. “And he’s always complaining about how fast his hair grows too, so it shouldn’t take that long.”

“Why are we talking about my hair?” Brain lamented aloud. John simply shrugged; absolutely no help at all. In fact, he looked at Freddie’s phone and nodded in agreement.

“Good! Then it shouldn’t take long for it to grow out,” Freddie said happily. He glanced at Brian, finally including him back in the discussion. “You are growing your hair longer,” he said firmly, decision made.

“Longer? Are you kidding?” Brian self-consciously touched a curl. “Do you have any idea how long it already takes to dry?”

“Wash your hair before you have time booked at the telescopes overnight, and it will dry while you’re up alone all night,” John said absently finishing his chips. The other men looked at him. “What?” John said at their surprised expressions. “I’m good at managing stuff. They don’t call me the Efficacy Expert at department meetings for nothing.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” Freddie encouraged, nodding in approval of John’s suggestion. 

“I am not having this conversation,” Brian grumbled firmly. Fortunately, the bartender had the fresh round of drinks ready and he was able to escape the table. When he returned, the topic had somehow thankfully changed to engineering, and Roger and Brian were content to listen for a time as Freddie and John debated ancient alien technology.

“Look at this.” Freddie encouraged, waving his phone under John’s nose. “Look at this picture. An engraving found on a wall inside one of the pyramids. Try to tell me that’s not a lightbulb!”

“Oh my God, you are such an artist,” John openly snarked. “Seeing things that aren’t there just because you want them to be. One, even if they had electricity, so what? What did they use it for? And two, who says it came from aliens?

Fortunately, the debate was kept mild mannered, and didn't last too long. After John used cutlery, a napkin holder, and a pen to try to demonstrate how the pyramids could have been built without alien technology, Freddie conceded for the moment, and then snapped his fingers. 

“Good Lord, almost entirely slipped my mind. Meant to ask you earlier; I would love to have you chaps over to my place for dinner this weekend. I purchased a small place nearby since the commute to London was going to atrocious. I cannot cook to save my life, but I know of a very good local caterer. And they can do vegetarian for you, of course, darling,” he smiled at Brian.

“That would be nice,” Brian agreed, after mentally checking that he didn’t have the telescope booked for the weekend.

“That sounds good,” John said, agreeing without too much of a struggle, which was a welcome change. “I’d like to see your place and a quiet dinner is okay.” 

Roger nodded. “Sure, I’m in.”

“Marvelous,” Freddie beamed. “I’ll text you the address. Cabbing would be the best bet since you know drinking will be involved.” He gave Roger a challenging look. “Ready for another contest?”

“Always,” Roger said cheerfully. He and Freddie clinked glasses in agreement while Brian and John exchanged sighs and resigned looks. The last drinking contest had ended up with them shoving both men into separate cabs. 

“Why am I always the grown-up?” John muttered. Freddie and Roger just giggled and Brian nodded in sympathy.

**

Saturday night John and Roger got a cab, picked up Brian, and then headed to the address Freddie had given them. After half an hour, they arrived at the small mansion Freddie was calling home for the year. Freddie had texted the gate code and they let themselves in past the gates and hurried up the long driveway. The designer was already waiting for them on the front steps.

“Come in, come in,” Freddie beamed. “Sorry about the long driveway, chaps.”

“Oh yes, as if there is so much you can do about that,” Roger joked as they entered. 

“Well, I might try. Perhaps John could give some advice,” Freddie cheerfully bantered.

Brian looked around as Freddie took their coats, admittedly very curious what the inside of a famous designer’s house would look like. It was posh indeed, but completely tasteful and not what he would consider too over the top. No naked statues or paintings (Roger looked a tad disappointed) and everything quite normal. The only odd thing at all was the number of cats who greeted them as they made their way into the kitchen where covered platers and chafing dishes of food were waiting. 

“Good Lord, I completely forgot; are any of you allergic?” Freddie began frantically rummaging in a drawer. “I keep a stash of over the counter allergy meds right here…anyone need something? Take whatever you need while I put them back in their bedrooms.” He paused, thinking; “Please tell me none of you have asthma,” he begged. “Where the bloody hell is that rescue inhaler….”

Roger laughed and picked up a large tabby. “Nah, I’m good,” he said cheerfully, rubbing the cats belly.

“Me too,” John said. He was having a starring contest with a small tuxedo cat, but he was smiling and the cat was purring, so all seemed fine.

“All clear,” Brian confirmed. “I love animals, obviously,” he gestured to elegantly labeled ‘Vegetarian’ chafing dishes, “and no allergies.” Freddie gave an exaggerated sigh of relief at their words.

“I am so sorry, my dears. I put them away when it’s a party, but tonight is just friends, isn’t it? I’m still stupid for not warning you.”

“Not warning us that the famous designer is really a crazy cat lady?” Roger teased.

Black eyebrows raised in friendly, joking, irritation. “Crazy cat gentleman, thank you very much,” Freddie retorted. “And yes, I did bring them with me from London. Couldn’t imagine going a year without seeing them.”

“Brian has badgers,” John said unhelpfully as Freddie began uncovering dishes. Brian glared a little, but his secret was long since out so he just had to shrug. “Takes in orphans until they are big enough to be released back into sanctuaries. So I don’t see how…um….how many cats are there exactly?” 

Freddie huffed a little. “Five, thank you very much.”

John blinked a little, but recovered. “Okay, five cats is fine. This place does seem big enough.”

“And how many badgers do you have right now, Brian?” Freddie asked, a teasing smile on his lips.

“Three,” Brian admitted sheepishly. “That reminds me, I should text the babysitter and make sure…” he trailed off, as the other three men all looked at him. “What?” he said defensively. “They’re infants and on scheduled feedings. They need a babysitter.”

“Sure. But calling the person a *babysitter*?” Roger asked, blond eyebrow raised.

“A biology major student,” Brian retorted, a tad defensively. “Getting her degree in wildlife management.” He lowered his head. “Plus, I took in a hedgehog yesterday.”

Freddie just laughed, and even Brian had to join in. Okay, he had never really thought of it that way before. Maybe he was the Crazy Badger/Hedgehog Gentleman. 

“So if I am the Cat Parent, and Brian is the Badger/Hedgehog Parent, what are you two?” Freddie asked John and Roger as they started opening up the serving chafing dishes and began fixing their plates.

“Not even a goldfish, mate,” Roger said with a shrug.

“I had a rat when I was a child,” John said with a sly smile. “His name was Mr. Cheese.”

Roger nearly chocked on an olive in laughter and Freddie had to give him a good slap on the back. 

Once plates were ready, Freddie had them sit at the cozy table in the kitchen while he fixed requested drinks, and dinner was relaxed, the four of them chatting easily about classes and chances of various football clubs the next season. 

“How is the dissertation coming along?” Roger asked.

“Quite well,” Freddie said with satisfaction. “Bless them, my advisers have been very understanding about needing to meet me at odd hours and keeping things quiet. It helps that my main adviser is in India, so we skype. I did my field work there last year under the pretense of a design show and vacation. What no one knew is that I sneaked away to the libraries for study and to field locations for research.”

“Do you speak any of the languages from that region?” John inquired, giving in to a cat’s begging and giving it a piece of chicken. Brian had to frown a tad at the principal of the matter, but didn’t say anything. He understood that cats were carnivores. 

“Some Hinidi and Gujarati, which are very similar,” Freddie said modestly. “It did come in useful doing the reading and location work.” 

“Could you say something in Hindi?” John asked. “I don’t mean to make you act like a trained dog, but I honestly don’t think I’ve ever heard that language before.”

“Ummm….” Freddie refreshed their drinks, thinking. **Helo daarling meree naqal dekhana chaahate hain?** he finally said with smile.

Roger drummed his fingers thoughtfully. “Ok, ‘hello darling’….something,” he guessed. “That has got to be some pick up line.” Freddie just ginned.

“I will neither confirm nor deny,” he said, his nose in the air.

“One more time, please?” John asked. Freddie obliged and repeated the phrase, this time winking at Brian who shook his head, laughing. Whatever it was, it had to be good.

“Okay, so translation?” Roger eagerly said.

“Oh now, what? Pass on my best pick up line? In any language?” Freddie protested, looking grievously offended. “You will just have to figure it out for yourself.”

“Ahem,” John said quietly. The other three looked over at the young engineer, who lifted up his phone, a sly grin definitely on his face. 

Freddie eyes widened. “John,” he gasped, “you didn’t! You recorded me, didn’t you?”

John just smirked and pressed the play button on the auto translate app, needing only a moment to switch it to the appropriate language. 

**Hello darling want to see my etchings** said a monotone robotic voice.

“What?”” Roger was practically doubled over, laughing. Brain was just barely behind him, laughing and coughing at the same time into a napkin. John simply looked smug and superior.

Freddie blushed. Honest to goodness, blushed. Then he burst into laughter with the others.

“You are an evil genius, John Deacon,” Freddie finally said when he stopped laughed. He waved a hand in the engineer’s direction. “Mind you, now that I know of this secret super power, I will keep this in mind.”

“Hey, send it to me, would you?” Roger urged, getting out his own phone. “I want to set it as Freddie’s caller id ring tone.”

“I will do no such thing,” John said firmly. “It’s not polite.” He glanced over at Freddie. “But I may or may not keep it for any future blackmail. Just saying.”

Freddie lifted his glass in a toast. “Understood,” he said grandly.

Roger snapped his fingers. “We have found John’s rebellious streak!” he declared. “Evil genius.” He looked at Freddie. “And I can’t believe I am saying this to you, but mate, we have got to work on that pick-up line.”

“I’ll have you know that it works *very* well,” Freddie leered. “What’s your line; want me to check for cavities?”

Roger blushed, and said nothing; just took a generous drink of wine.

They helped Freddie with a quick clean up after the meal and John showed Freddie how to use the dishwasher. Brian almost bought the act that Freddie had no idea how to run the appliance, but then Freddie gave him a wink as John demonstrated how to adjust settings, and he just smiled back, realizing that Freddie pretending to be helpless with electronics was one of the ways he made John feel useful and valuable. He made a vow to model Freddie’s behavior whenever possible. 

Of course, now that they knew of John’s secret evil genius status, he suspected that John was far more secure than he let on.

After cleaning, they settled in a huge living room with fresh drinks and some desserts. John was entranced by the rooms speakers and sound system, and Freddie told the engineer to set up whatever he liked…so long as it was in English. John just chuckled and obliged by pulling up a play list of songs from his phone. Soon the soft sounds of music filled the room and the four continued with a good long visit, cats coming and going as they pleased. 

A very peculiar piano sound suddenly filled the room and Freddie signed. “Off!” he said firmly to a grey and white cat that was running down the keyboard of a grand piano. Brain had noticed the piano when they came in, and now he went over to examine it and picked up the cat who was clearly ignoring its master’s command. He put the cat down after a pat, and then played a few cords on the keyboard.

“Do you play?” Freddie asked, coming over beside him.

“Not really, just a few simple songs here and there,” Brian said. “Actually,” he cleared his throat, a little embarrassed. “I have a guitar. Made it myself when I was a teenager.” 

“You built a guitar?” John asked curious and obviously intrigued. Brian shrugged modestly.

“It was a good project for my Dad and I. And playing music was a good stress relief from studying. When I was having my fantasy about forming a rock and roll band, it was really nice to escape for a bit.”

“Ah, we’re all been there, haven’t we?” Roger agreed. “I doubt any teenage boy doesn’t dream of forming a band.” He smiled. “Groupies,” he mussed.

Brian gave the blond a stern look, but Freddie smiled. “Indeed, I think that is every young man’s secret fantasy. And why not? You think a designer has a wild life; I cannot image a music star’s life.”

“Endless travelling; ugh,” John said. He came over to the piano as well and expertly played a few lower key cords and melodies. At Freddie’s look, he blushed. “Play a bit of bass,” he admitted. “Bass is good for testing lower tone quality on electronics.” He looked pointedly at Roger and Freddie. “And yes, I may have gone through a music phase early in life, and still have the instrument. But ‘groupies’ were not at the top of my list, thank you very much.”

Three pairs of eyes turned to Roger, who grinned and started drumming with a pair of chopsticks on the end of the couch. “Secondary school drummer,” he said. “It was really more of an excuse to spend time with cheerleaders, but hey, it was pretty good fun. And I figured the drummer in a band would be the manliest, naturally.”

“Marvelous!” Freddie exclaimed. “We all play music in addition to knowing good music!” With his usual enthusiasm, he took a seat at the piano and began playing like a pro. When he started singing, Brian, Roger and John just starred in amazement.

“You should have been a singer, mate.” Roger said, truly impressed, when Freddie finished a short song. Freddie chuckled modestly.

“Music is art,” he said. “I don’t have near enough patience to compose music though; designing is much easier.” He glanced at the other three who were gathering around the piano. ‘Plus I never found a group that I would care to form a band with.”

“Yeah, you would have to be pretty close, wouldn’t you?” Roger agreed. “Really be good mates and able to work together.”

“Trusting,” John nodded. “You should see how vicious it can be in the labs. Can’t imagine how it might be in the music world.”

Brian sighed. “And just plainly having time. Science keeps you pretty busy.”

“Well, now,” Freddie said cheerfully. “We are here, trusting, and have plenty of time.” He played a few more cords and started on a song they were all familiar with and had previously agreed was on each of their personal top 10 favorites. “Come on, everyone!” Freddie exclaimed. Before he quite knew what was happening, Brian joined in singing, then Roger, and then even John came in on the refrain. Roger taped his chopsticks on the couch and John tapped out a gentle bass line on the piano while Brian did his best air guitar imitation. 

Months later, Brian would reflect upon the gleam that had appeared in Freddie’s eyes, and kick himself for being so oblivious. But right now he had a babysitter to text for the midnight feeding update, and was distracted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Freddie did speak some Hinidi and/or Gujarati, at least when he was young. I got the Hindi translation from Google. I mean no disrespect at all to speakers of that language, and hope that it was not offensive for me to include that bit.
> 
> I deliberately made Freddie’s doctoral dissertation as esoteric as possible. Just to rebel :-) And I have a history degree, so I know just how esoteric they can be.


	3. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who wants revenge? And how does music factor into it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, great thanks to Americanithink for advice and help. I did make changes after it was proofread so all mistakes are mine!

After that first dinner, nearly every Friday or Saturday was spent at Freddie’s, always ending in a song or two or a dozen at the piano. The one time Brian could not attend due to booked telescoped time, he received 11 pics from the other three, showing them at dinner and around the piano. Freddie included sad emojis in his text, making Brian smile. He sent back a selfie of himself holding a newborn hedgehog that was in a cage next to him for the night….it was on a 3 hour feeding schedule and he couldn’t leave it at home alone overnight. Freddie then sent smiley face icons, obviously feeling better that Brian wasn’t alone.

Despite his protests, John really was a good singer when he was in the mood, but the biggest surprise was Roger. Properly motivated (encouraged) he had a falsetto that was flawless and amazing. Freddie was in awe of his voice, and spent hours testing just how high Roger could sing. John starting keeping charts showing how the amount of alcohol correlated to how high Roger could sing. 

When the holiday season arrived, Freddie held one big party for ‘people’, meaning famous people or people from his design business (“part of my job; entertaining, even when trying to take a year off” he lamented. “At least it’s just one party this year”), and while Brian, Roger and John all had invitations, only Roger went. Brian had booked telescope time, and John cringed at the idea of any gathering with ‘people’. Roger, though, had cheerfully accepted. Judging by the smirk on his face Monday, he’d had a very good time.

From the start, Roger had expanded his strict dating policy to not ask Freddie to set him up with anyone. Never once had he tried to ‘call in a favor’ or introduction in any manner. Brian and John respected him for it, and Freddie just beamed approval. But it had been tactfully understood that the party was sort of rule-free zone. Another reason Brian had asked for that very specific telescope time.

“Just remember what we talked about, darling,” Freddie lectured him as they ate lunch in the faculty dining hall the Monday after the party. 

“I know. She really was nice and smart, just like you said.” Roger grinned. “And then she did just what you said she would.”

Brian coughed. “Um….do we want to know?” he asked. John looked intrigued, but also a touch wary.

Roger laughed. “Not what you’re thinking; get your mind out of the gutter,” he teased. “Freddie introduced me to a lovely young lady at the party.”

“She works in my studio,” Freddie interjected. “I know her family well.” He sounded a bit like an old fashioned match-maker. 

Roger nodded in agreement. “She honestly was nice, intelligent and fun to talk to…among other things.” He glanced apologetically at John, who merely shrugged, long accustomed to Roger’s anti-professor ways when far away from campus. “And then the next morning she asked me about whitening her teeth even more than the blinding white they already were.” Roger clutched his fork in dismay. “She wants me for my mind, not my body,” he lamented dramatically. 

John nearly choked in laughter on his tea and Brian had to get them all more napkins.

Freddie also hosted a party for the college faculty, and John did agree to come to that event. Having heard a few snickered remarks from Roger about the ‘famous people party’, Brian might have been a bit apprehensive about just what would greet the educators, most of whom were not exactly party people. But he knew by now that Freddie was nothing at all like the papers claimed, and his party for faculty really was very nice. Quite posh, with uniformed servers and high-end catering, but completely tasteful, low-key and relaxed. The only fuss was when some folks from the performing arts department got tipsy, commandeered the grand piano and started a karaoke contest. 

“Jesus, Freddie,” Roger winced as the entire Theater department launched into yet another show tune, trying to outdo the Music department. “Make them stop.”

“Oh no, not yet, my dear padawan.” Freddie’s dark eyes were calculating and assessing. “Let them bring it on. Let’s see what they have.” One of Freddie’s cats, a long-haired white Persian, had appeared as if by magic, and Freddie was stroking it in a contemplative manner as he sat in a sedan chair, appraising the battling performing Arts departments. The rest of the cats were safely tucked away in their bedrooms.

Brian would have been worried, but the new age faction of the humanities departments had unified and was threatening to ‘cast bad energy’ for the new year on the ‘hard core science’ faction, and he had to go stand with his fellow scientists. Then John and the engineering department got into a dreadful fuss with the graphic arts department (Freddie was copiously absent; supposedly putting away the cat), and he had intervened before it escalated.

Plus, he had to check in with the babysitter.

So he totally missed the gleam in Freddie’s eyes.

***

Christmas day each of them went off to their assorted family homes, but Freddie was very firm about the four of them having a Boxing Day private party at his home, and the forecast of a blizzard was not dissuading him.

**Pack a bag and plan to spend the night** he texted each of them Christmas day. **Brian – the badgers/hedgehogs/whatever are welcome. Or pay the babysitter overtime. Whatever**

Then there was a second message: **Brian and John – bring your guitar and bass. Let’s have a sing and play along. Roger darling, I borrowed some drums for you**

Followed by a third message: **I am sending a car to pick you all up early tomorrow morning before the snow hits. No excuses. Don’t forget the guitar and bass**

Fourth message: **Brian, let me know if you need a cat free room for the badgers/hedgehogs**

Brian sighed and texted as he rode the train back home from his parents’ house. **Thanks, but it’s too cold to take them out. I have the babysitter moving in for the next couple of days**

Roger joined in the chat **A girl is actually staying in your flat? You randy dog**  


**It’s for professional reasons, Roger** John wrote, trying to defend his friend.

**Even better** **Whoooo** Roger and Freddie replied at almost the exact same time.

**I am not having this conversation** John texted and even his typing had a defensive tone. 

John frowned at all the texts again once they were all settled in the van that Freddie had sent to hold not just three men, but their bags and two guitars.

“A play along?” he questioned.

“Why not?” Roger said cheerfully. Every dinner at Freddie’s ended with them gathering around the piano. “Looks like we will be snowed in for at least a day, so we should have some fun. There are far worse places to be, John, so let’s just have a good time!”

Brain smiled at the engineer. “Yeah, I think we can cut loose,” he encouraged. He was honestly looking forward to the time away….and the chance for some REM sleep. Infant badgers and hedgehogs required feeding every 3-4 hours. 

John pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well, alright,” he agreed reluctantly, making it sound like a sincere hardship, but he also had a small smile.

Roger clapped a hand on the youngest man’s back. “There’s the spirit!” he said happily.

The driver took them up the driveway to the front porch of the mansion, where Freddie was waiting to help them unload. He tipped the driver generously and told him to get home quickly before the storm hit, insisting that he text Freddie to let him know when he was home safe.

“Dibs on Romero’s room!” Roger exclaimed as they entered the house. They were all comfortable enough now that they knew the layout of Freddie’s house well and felt quite at home.

And they knew that every cat had its own bedroom.

“Er….whoever is willing to share,” Brian said weakly. John quietly agreed with him, and Freddie just laughed.

“I think each one is willing to share,” he said cheerfully. “Oh, good, Brian, John; you brought your guitars. Marvelous. Leave them here, and let’s get you settled.” Within minutes Freddie had shown each of the men to a comfortable bedroom each with its own ensuite and they were settling in. Brian patted the cat whose room he was crashing and took a few minutes to unpack some things.

John was already in the living room watching the snow start when Brian and Roger came back down stairs. “Look like we just made it,” he remarked. “Forecast says it will be pretty bad within the next couple of hours.”

“Well, we are all safe and sound here,” Freddie said. “Nowhere we have to be, nothing we have to do, and with good company. Let’s just be comfortable. Come now, let’s get some lunch.”

As usual, Freddie’s catering staff had worked marvels, leaving enough food for a veritably army for the next few days, and the four men enjoyed a leisurely lunch, chatting about the how family visits had gone the day before. They cleaned up, Freddie showing John that he knew how to use the dishwasher, and exchanging a wink with Brian when John looked rather proud of his instruction. 

“Next is laundry,” Roger teased. Freddie laughed.

That I have well under control,” he said confidently. “Now the microwave, for when we have to re-heat or cook…..” he trailed off, and exchanged another wink with Brian as John visibly perked up at the prospect of teaching Freddie how to use a new appliance. 

“Now come, I have something to show you,” Freddie said once they were done in the kitchen. “Brian, John, get your cases.” He led them through the living room and Brian was surprised when they didn’t stop at the grand piano.

“No room here for drums, darling,” Freddie explained, seeming to read Brian’s mind. “Let’s go downstairs.”

None of them had been downstairs in Freddie’s house, which turned out be various workrooms. Several large rooms housed tables piled with material, charts, diagrams and all sorts of things. But in the middle of the huge main room was another grand piano and a seven-piece drum kit, surrounded by amps.

“Wow, this is like a recording studio,” Roger remarked as they all explored the area. 

“Well, not exactly,” Freddie chuckled. “No recording, I promise. But a music studio, yes.” He gestured at Brian and John. “Go on dears, plug in. Roger, darling, starting doing….what it is drummers do. Hit something, I suppose.” Roger laughed, and cheerfully took a seat on the stool. Freddie bustled about, and the next thing Brian and John knew, they had a music stand in front of them with simple sheet music.

“I know you can read music,” Freddie said lightly when John tried to protest. “Just have fun and see if we can play this together.”

The next few minutes were filled with noise and general chaos. When John complained about Roger ‘pounding’ the drums, Freddie produced some noise reduction headphones. Then he helped John move his amp and music stand to a separate room so John could take off the headphones and listen to his bass and fine-tune the amps.

Brian, meanwhile, was nervously taking his homemade guitar out of his case. He gently stroked her, wondering if she would sound as good to others as she sounded to her.

“She’s beautiful.”

Brian looked up, and then blushed at Freddie, who was standing beside him, looking in awe at the guitar. 

“You know it’s a ‘she’?” Brian tried for lightheartedness. “Very unscientific, Fred.”

“Oh, no, it’s very scientific,” the designer retorted quietly. He sat on nearby chair and held out a hand. “May I?” he asked humbly, and Brian found himself nodding.

Freddie didn’t try to take her from Brian, just plucked a few notes and cords. “She is amazing. And you and your Dad made her together?” 

Brian nodded again. “I call her the Red Special,” he said softly. He had never really told anyone that other than his Dad, but it seemed right to share with Freddie. The designer would understand.

And Freddie did just nod in agreement. “I can’t wait to hear her,” he said, and stood, squeezing Brian’s shoulder in support. Then he was off to the room were John had taken himself. “John, darling, how are those amps?”

After a bit, they gathered back around the piano and drum kit, John and Brian with their guitars plugged into the amps. “Let’s give this song a go,” Freddie encouraged. “I have the piano bit down for lead, so you just come in as you can.”

John was looking pretty nervous. “I’ve never actually played in front of anyone,” he admitted. 

“Just come when where you feel comfortable, mate,” Roger encouraged. He tapped a few beats, setting a nice steady pace for the song. “Follow me; the rhythm sections sticks together, you know. Come in when you feel like it.”

John finally nodded and played a few notes. He was actually really good. They knew Freddie could play and sing. Now Brian took a deep breath and nervously looked at the sheet music. At least it was a song that he knew quite well, and had even attempted to play a few times. He tried a few cords, striving to get a feel. His fingers were stiff, but then Freddie started on the piano, and Brian found himself following along. Each cord was easier, and his fingers started to move freely.

With Freddie’s lead, they eventually got through the song, although there were lots of stops and starts.

“Oops, sorry.”

“Wrong chord!”

“Dang, back up to the top of the page, okay?”

“What does this music symbol even mean, anyway?”

“Darlings, top of the page!”

“Why are there so many pieces of paper?”

“Come in on the chorus, everyone!”

“Roger, are you actually following sheet music or just making noise?”

“Yes!”

“Alright, one more time, from the start!”

After 20 minutes of laughing and re-starts, they finally managed to play and more or less sing all the way through. Brian knew they were heavily relying on Freddie who was handling vocals and piano, but he and John were doing alright with some areas of their parts and Roger was really getting the drums under control. They all then just started messing around with parts of the songs, happily talking over each other and offering advice that was both helpful and unhelpful.

“I want to try the drums.”

“Only if I get to try the bass.”

“Turn the amp volume down.”

“What does this dial do?”

“What’s a G minor cord? I forgot.”

“Brian! Roger just hit me with a drumstick.”

"Did not!"

“I am NOT your mum!”

“Let’s try another song, shall we?”

“The verse repeats, I’m telling you; not back to refrain yet!”

“From the top!”

A few hours later, they went back upstairs, laughing and teasing about their importune jam session. They had stumbled their way through 5 songs, some good, and some dreadful, but laughing all along.

“That was fun,” Roger said cheerfully, now using chopsticks to drum lightly on a plate as they heated up some dinner. “‘Forgot how much fun it can be to play.”

“It was nice,” John conceded. “Those were really good amps, Freddie. And you were fantastic, Brian.”

The tall man blushed a little. “Bit rusty,” he demurred. “Haven’t played in a while.”

“Well, it didn’t show one bit,” Freddie beamed. He poured them all drinks and they toasted to their musical career. “Image what we would sound like with practice,” he mused, and Brian yet again didn’t think much of the look in Freddie’s eyes because he was getting reading to text the babysitter.

“All good?” Freddie asked, as he fed his cats and Brian put away his phone.

“Yeah, Nigel’s eating. I was a bit worried.” Freddie nodded, but Roger and John exchanged smiles. “He wasn’t eating,” Brian sighed. “So yes, forgive me if I worry.”

“We just love you even more for it,” Roger faked cooed, and Brian had to join the laughter.

The wine and drink flowed freely, and after dinner they settled back in the main living room, relaxed and joking as Freddie broke out some board games. Brian beat everyone at Scrabble, and John naturally won a Jenga game. Roger turned out to be a complete poker shark.

“It’s the blue eyes and blond hair,” he said with an evil shrug. “No one expects me to be good at lying.” He batted his eyes. “How could such a sweet thing be bluffing?” Freddie led the round of boos and tossed popcorn.

After they had exhausted a round of games, Freddie refreshed everyone’s drinks, leaving bottles consciously available on the table, and then gathered them back around the couches.

“Now then,” he said, “I have something to discuss with you all.” His tone had changed, and was firm and determined. Brian raised an eyebrow, wondering what was going on. He had really never heard Freddie use that tone of voice before. Freddie was suddenly all business. “Tell me more about this faculty talent show I’ve seen on the school master calendar.”

Ah, geez. Brian, Roger, and John all sighed in unison. “Yeah, every April, the college holds a faculty Talent Show,” Roger explained. “Really quite silly. It’s just an excuse for the Performing Arts department to show off. They always win.”

“It’s a travesty,” John grumbled darkly, with a surprising nasty tone in his voice. Brian had to blink a little at the venom in the engineer’s voice, and he saw Roger do the same.

“It’s honestly quite rigged, I suspect,” Brian explained to Freddie. “I mean, it’s a talent show….what do they expect? One year a geologist juggled Cretaceous rocks. And she was honestly really good, but lost to someone showing off on a harp. I buy a ticket since it goes to charity, but no one from the science department goes. It’s silly.”

“Well, silly or not, we are forming a band and performing this year!” Freddie crowed, the matter all settled.

He was confronted with three shocked looks.

“No way,” Roger protested. 

“You mean lip sync or karaoke? John asked, skeptically. “Because that would just be asking for a public death by humiliation.”

“No, darling. We are going to sing and play live. A good rock song, all live.”

Brain cleared his throat. “Play live?” he said worriedly. “Are you nuts? You should be a solo act, Freddie; I’ll come to support you, but I doubt the three of us could help you in any manner.”

“A group is always better,” Freddie persisted. “We just got done performing some marvelous songs together.” Freddie actually pointed the door to the basement to illustrate his point. “We have four months to pick a song and make it even better. Come on, lads! I’ve seen what the Performing Arts departments have to offer, and we can do much better.”

“The faculty party….you were evaluating them, weren’t you?” Brian realized. “When you let them go for it with the karaoke and just watched.”

Freddie grinned and it was a tad dark, instead of his usual sunny smile. “Oh yes, I was evaluating,” he agreed with a calculating tone. Brian had a flashback to the Dr. Evil moment of Freddie watching the performances. “They have the voices, but so do we. And we are not just going to sing but also put on one Hell of a show. We are going to do a full 70’s rock and roll band performance. Costumes, stage show, the whole bit.”

Brian gulped his drink nervously, now understanding why Freddie had left out the bottles. Damn, he was a good host. “We’ll look like fools,” he protested.

“No, we will look and be divine,” Freddie insisted. “This is what I *do*, darlings, trust me. I would never suggest this if I didn’t know we will be amazing. The Performing Arts department won’t have any idea what hit them.” His eyes were gleaming with excitement and a bit of danger. It was rather unnerving. They had never seen Freddie in full designer mode before.

“Plus it’s for charity!” Freddie continued. “The ticket sale revenue all goes to local charities. And if we win, the big prize goes the charity of our choice, and there is a perfect animal shelter and sanctuary nearby.” He looked at Brian with big puppy eyes. “How can you possibly say ‘no’ to that?” He looked so earnest that Brian sighed.

Brian looked at Roger nervously, and the dentist just looked back helplessly. 

“Um…I really don’t know—” Roger started.

“I’ll do it.” 

Roger and Brian looked at John in shock. A few hours ago, John had been shy about playing in front of them. Now he was willing to get on a stage? Something definitely was going on in that brilliant mind.

The engineer sat straight up, his eyes focused and determined. “Sod it; do you really think we could win, Freddie? Or at the least put on a really good show?” At the designer’s excited nod, John nodded himself again. “Then I’m in. I’ve been biding my time for over two years. I’m ready.” Brian and Roger were both now looking completely confused, knowing there was a story there, and John sighed, conceding that he had to explain.

“A couple of years ago, a pair of twit directors from the Performing Arts department came rushing to me, asking for help with special effects for some production at the last possible moment. I rearranged my schedule for a whole weekend to try and help them. Then when I told them that there was simply no way to safely….and legally….set up the effects they wanted on that particular stage, they said that I was interfering with their creative vision.” The last bit was said with John doing actual air quotes. “I said that their vision would be in the inside of a prison cell for committing mass murder when people got killed from the fire that the effects would cause. Then they called me some very foul names and I left.”

“Shit!” Roger’s eyes were bright as realization dawned. “The theater fiasco….that was you?” John blushed modestly, and Brian’s own eyes were now very wide, putting the pieces together. “Two years ago, a small fire broke out in the Performing Arts main office, *during* a surprise inspection,” Roger explained to a very captivated Freddie. “They opened the circuit box for a routine checkup, and boom! A fire started right in the wiring. Then the next circuit box overloaded. They had to shut down the entire theater building for like three days to inspect all their cables and wiring.”

“Four days, actually,” John corrected mildly, taking another sip from his drink. He looked quietly, confidentially, smug. “Pity that the production that I had been called in on had to be cancelled.”

“Oh my God, you shut down the entire department, didn’t you?” Roger exclaimed, looking at his friend in awe. 

“No one got hurt; I was watching the entire time thru cameras and didn’t set off any connections until the fire department was already on the scene doing the inspection,” John tried to defend himself, while at the same time freely admitting to the deed. “Unlike what would have happened if I had let those idiotic directors carry out that disaster. I couldn’t care less about those two adults, but innocent students could have been hurt.” He cleared his throat. “So, anyhow, before you ask; no, closing down the department wasn’t enough - I want another shot at those idiots and I’ve been biding my time for two years. I’m in with this deal, provided that I don’t have to sing. I’ll play the bass and look ridiculous, but I will not sing. Or dance.”

“Deal,” Freddie beamed. He looked over at the other two men expectantly.

“Oh Hell, I’ll do it,” Roger said. He poured himself a shot and downed it in one gulp. He was always up for a laugh and if John was on board, then he had to man up as well. “But I get to pick the song once we’ve narrowed down what we can all actually play.”

“But of course!”

Now it was down to Brian. He took a shot of liquid courage, matching Roger’s actions. “I’ll do it,” he finally said, “if we all make a donation to the animal shelter even if we don’t win.”

“Deal!” Freddie clapped his hands, looking like a teenager. “And I—‘

“Hey, it’s your idea. You don’t get to impose any conditions,” Roger argued.

Freddie waved him off. “I am going to make sure we win by picking out our outfits. Put yourself in my very capable hands.” It was hard to argue with that point; Freddie was a designer after all, and they just had to assume that he knew what he was doing and that they would all survive. 

They raised their glasses in a toast, and while Freddie started babbling with ideas and excitement, Roger and Brian sat in mute terror at what they had just gotten themselves into. John was smiling, thinking of sweet revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No artists were harmed during the writing of this story :-) And I mean no offense whatsoever to those gifted with those amazing talents. You are awesome.


	4. Preparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do you transform from a mild-mannered professor into a rock star for the night? And what song do they pick?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Great thanks to the amazing Americanithink for proofreading. I did make changes after they reviewed the chapter, so all mistakes are mine...all mine!

Surprising, it wasn’t difficult to almost immediately settle on a song, one that they all loved, figured they could play, and Roger got the final decision as promised. They also picked two more songs for backup, just in case. Freddie got the sheet music, and after a couple weeks of practice, Brian and John had their parts well enough so that Freddie was free to leave the piano for most of the songs to sing, and Roger was coming along fine with the percussion. Since they were songs that they all knew well, the vocals were good; even John was quietly coming in on the refrain despite his earlier protests and his voice was terrific. They still had over three months to practice, and all was looking good.

Their first big fight as a group was over the name for their band.

“Well, since we all teach for Queens College, it’s really quite logical,” Freddie argued, clearly not understanding why his three bandmates were digging in their heels. They were cleaning up after dinner and getting ready to head downstairs to rehearse. But first, they had to fill out the registration form for the show, and it required a name for the act.

“No offense, but I really don’t think *The Queens* is a respectable choice,” Brain said, doing his best to be tactful. “We have to face a group of students every day, remember? Some could find it offensive.”

“Absolutely not,” John said, and he had the look in his eye that meant end of discussion. Even Roger, who was usually game for just about anything, shook his head, flatly refusing.

“It’s not a drag act, Freddie,” he said firmly. 

“Chickens,” Freddie sighed. He pondered for a few moments, and then snapped his fingers. “Queen. That’s what we can call ourselves. Queen. There, are you happy with that?” There were reluctant sounds of agreement and Freddie happily wrote the name down.

The next battle was over the wigs. Freddie insisted that they simply had to wear wigs to complete the stage look, and he was fighting a battle with John and Roger. “Brian, darling, had the sense to keep his hair a semi-reasonable length,” Freddie said, holding up one long blond wig and a long brunet one after they had eaten dinner and were back in the music/living room for practice. Freddie was currently wearing a dark brown wig and Brian had to admit that it looked good on the designer. But then Freddie could pull off any look. “But you two, really, have you *seen* pictures from the 70’s?”

“Oh Jesus,” muttered Roger. “In for a penny, in for a proud, I guess.” He randomly grabbed a wig and put it on. “There, happy?” he demanded. 

All three other men burst out laughing and only belated did Roger realize that he had put on the brunet wig. John, in a very good and relaxed mood buoyed by several glasses of wine, donned the blond wig and they all had a good laugh (and Roger and Freddie took selfies), before reluctantly agreeing to wear the correct wigs. Brian thought he had gotten off easy until Freddie produced some conditioner and a comb and started tackling the tight curls that Brian fought every day.

“Hey!” he protested. 

“Hush,” Freddie said, shoving the taller man into a chair and going to work with the combs. “You scrunch it, don’t you, damn it, trying to keep the curls even tighter than they already are.”

“Like I said, I’ve tried having it cut shorter, but then the curls stick straight up,” Brian protested. “This length at least lets me ‘scrunch’, as you so nicely say, the curls. I’ve thought about basically shaving it mostly off, really.” That earned him a slap on the arm.

“What did I say before about you cutting your hair?” Freddie said sternly. “I know the perfect stylist for you. If I have to, I swear I will take a ruler to your hair and measure it every day to make certain you don’t do anything foolish. Thank goodness we still have three months; you can grow it a bit by then. Trust me darling. Have you any idea how many women and men would kill for curls like this? Lord knows I would.” Brian squirmed, but after about 10 minutes Freddie finally let Brian look in a mirror.

“Oh God, I look like Isaac Newton,” was all Brian could say. Freddie had tamed all the curls out, adding at least 2-3 inches to the overall length now that they were relaxed and showing all their glory. His hair was still a curly mass, but now it was a bit more relaxed, and definitely longer. It was…..maybe alright, but certainly not a style he would have chosen.

“Nonsense.” Freddie huffed. “We would have to grow it at least another 4 inches for the Sir Isaac look, and trust me, my dear, it totally was a wig. They all were those days. You,” Freddie smiled, running his fingers through the brown hair, smoothing out the once tight curls, “are perfect as it is. I am calling your new stylist right now.” He turned away before Brian could blush himself to death. 

“Roger, John! You too, now. Line up, my dears,” Freddie called, appraising the other men. “Roger, Lord knows you don’t need much, but a tad of highlighting naturally blond tresses never hurt anyone. John, my dear, the color is perfect, really an ideal auburn for your skin tone; I seriously need to get pictures of it. But like our dear Brain, you need to grow it out a bit so we can showcase it.”

And right, then, in addition to being their friend, fellow teacher, and lead singer, Freddie became their personal stylist. 

“I agreed to wear the wig,” John objected. “Why grow my real hair longer?”

“So everyone can see what you are hiding, my dear,” Freddie said, in full designer mode, but still understanding John’s personal comfort zone. “Just an inch or two, darling.”

‘It’s curly,” John said. “I mean, nothing like Brian’s,” he said, looking at the taller man apologetically. “But…”

“If I’m growing my hair out, then so are you,” Brian said, glaring. John sighed and nodded.

Freddie looked over at Roger eagerly, and the dentist held up his hands. “No, my hair is not curly,” he said. “And you just said the style is fine. So, I’m good.”

“Highlights,” Freddie said sternly. Roger nodded dutifully, willing to accept Freddie’s style advice. “I am making appointments now.” He spared Brian and John a glance. “Saturday, everyone. 9am sharp.”

Saturday morning Freddie collected them and the group headed into London. Brian and John were rather panicked, but Roger and Freddie jollied them along.

“I am not trying to change you, my dear,” Freddie said to John kindly, now in full big brother mode. “You are perfect just as you are. Just try it, alright? Hair is so easy to change, if you don’t like it, then we leave it be. Same for you, Brian. Just consider giving it a try.”

“Come on, it will be fun.” Roger encouraged them. “Try something different.” He grinned broadly, clasping Brian’s shoulder. “Rebellion and revenge,” he reminded them.

John bit his lip but nodded in determination. 

They entered a small, private salon where Freddie was warmly greeted by the owner and 3 stylists. Brain looked around, realized that they were the only customers, and was grateful for Freddie’s discretion. If he or John made a run for the door, there wouldn’t be many witnesses. Before he quite knew what was happening, Freddie had paired each of the professors with a stylist and they went to work.

John got off easy with just a simple trim to even things out, and a promise that he would let his hair grow for the next few months. He was able to read a number of scholarly journals while he patiently waited and happily fixed a blow dryer that suddenly shorted out. 

Roger looked ridiculous with tin foil in his hair as highlights were added, but he was joking and obviously having a good time. He and his stylist seemed to really hit it off, and phone numbers were exchanged. 

Brian found himself plunked down in a chair while Freddie and a man named Carl tacked his hair together.

“Good grief, you were not kidding, Freddie,” Carl mused in delight as he ran his hands through Brian’s hair. “This hair is a work of art on its own.”

“I know, right?” Freddie beamed. “Now, Brian, I can already tell that you did what I said to do; good boy.” Brian rolled his eyes, blushing. 

“Yes, I washed it last night and then just let it be. Thank God, I had telescope time booked because it was still wet 4 hours later. This is what it looks like on its own. Horrible.” He thought that his hair looked like a wild nest suitable for his hedgehogs. 

Carl actually gasped. “Don’t be absurd,” he scolded, lightly slapping Brian on the arm. “My wife and I would both kill for hair like this, as would just about anyone I know. Yes, a good trim to style it up, and then definitely grow a little longer,” Carl agreed with Freddie. “But first, some treatment.”

“I’m sorry, what?” 

The next thing Brian knew, he was under a bonnet hair dryer, conditioner and shower cap on his head.

“Don’t you dare,” he hollered at Roger, seeing the blond reach for his phone. “I’m serious, Roger. I will break up the band right here right now if you take a picture.”

Freddie turned to Roger. “Put the phone away, dear, this is a no embarrassment zone. Be nice.” Roger grumbled, but did as he was told.

A few hours later, Brian was staring at himself in the mirror. Curls carefully styled and combed through, his hair was longer but it looked….alright. Both Carl and Freddie had ran scissors through his hair, ‘shaping it’, they called it, and they were now beaming at their work. “Now remember,” Carl lectured him. “When you wash it, use this conditioner, comb it though, and then let it be. No scrunching ever again. And keep growing it. It will look better the longer it gets, trust us.”

“I will slap his hand if he does anything else,” Freddie promised. “And other trim next month to keep these curls under control.” Carl nodded in agreement and Freddie clapped his hands. “Now, dears, just one more thing.” A device appeared in his hand and it took Brian a second to recognize it.

“Um…you didn’t say anything about piercing our ears.”

“Won’t the wigs cover our ears anyway?” John said, looking for excuses. Freddie had dragged the younger man away from his journals for a moment.

“Not with the earrings I am picking out for that night,” Freddie shrugged. “Both ears, both of you.” He nodded toward Roger who was flirting outrageously with his stylist and she in turn was giving as good as she got. “Roger is all set. For you two, I have some nice diamond studs; just enough so you can wear the costumes earrings that night. Then you can let the piercings grow back closed if you want.”

Brian sighed, exchanging a look with John. “In for a penny, in for a pound,” he mused. John set his chin in determination, and nodded.

“Marvelous!” Freddie beamed once the two professors had submitted themselves to the gun. “Now, how about some ice cream as a reward?”

“I want pudding,” John whined.

******

Monday at lunch, John showed up with a blush on his face and his head lowered.

“What’s wrong, dear?” Freddie said, immediately protective.

John mumbled something unintelligible into his sandwich.

“Sorry?” Roger said.

John sighed and looked up. “Three people have noticed the earrings,” he said, giving Freddie a bit of a dark look. “All of them…. complemented me. It’s embarrassing.”

“You deserve compliments, darling,” Freddie said firmly.

“No one’s teased you, have they?” Roger’s voice had a deadly tone all of a sudden, and his eyes were narrowed. Shit, Brian knew that look. Freddie looked honestly a bit startled at the suddenly change in the normally care-free dentist/professor. “Who said something? Where are they? What did they say exactly?” Roger had his fork clutched in his hands and looked ready for battle.

“They look I looked—” John took a deep breath. “They said I looked good.” He sounded truly mortified.

Brian looked down to hide his smile. At least his hair was hiding his new earrings. He supposed he was getting off easy so far. 

“Well now, mate,” Roger said, taking a deep breath, considering things, and a tiny bit of his anger dissipated. “You know what? They’re right. You look damn cool, and folks are just plain jealous, and you know what I think about what folks can do right?” John sighed and nodded. “Come on, let’s go get some fresh tea. You’ll feel better after a nice cuppa.” He took John’s arm and guided him back toward the tea and coffee bar.

“Roger is actually very good with John,” Freddie remarked casually once the other two men were gone.

Brian smiled and shook his head. “John is the youngest full faculty member, and between that and being shy, he gets picked on a lot. Not by students; they love him,” Brian hastily clarified. “But there are some a-hole senior professors who hate that John knows more than they ever will. Roger has a hair-trigger temper, if you haven’t already figured that out, and he takes it personally if anyone even looks at John funny. I guess Roger and I both consider John to be a…” he paused.

“A little brother,” Freddie finished with a smile, nodding in agreement. “I think the same. He is scary smart, and I know he can take care of himself. And he was the first to join in this scheme of mine, remember. He is an evil genius and I respect that. But still, sometimes I want to bundle him up like one of your badgers, foxes, or hedgehogs and protect him.” The designer got a very stubborn look in his eyes that matched Roger’s. “Trust me, if any one ever picks on John, they will have to answer to me, and that will not be a pretty sight. I am not trying to change our John one bit; he is perfect just as he is. But he could use a boost in his confidence. And destroying the Performing Arts department is just the first step.”

Before Brian could ask about the second step, Roger and John returned with a fresh pot of tea, and Freddie patted John’s hand reassuringly. “You look wonderful, my dear. Hold your head high and be proud.” he smiled encouragingly. 

“It’s just not expected from us, mate,” Roger added. “But we all have our secrets and rebellion, remember?”

“One of my students asked if I had changed my hair,” Brian volunteered, trying to make John feel better. “Yeah, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about, just a surprise for folks. And that is why we are doing this, right? For fun, and to prove that we are good musicians in addition to being professors. That, and to help the animals, of course,” he added pointedly, looking at Roger and Freddie.

John’s eyes narrowed in focus and he nodded. “You’re right,” he agreed reluctantly. “It’s just….embarrassing to have attention called to yourself. I’m not used to it.”

“It happens to all of us, mate,” Roger said kindly. “Surprising people can be fun, trust me. It’s not so bad. Except when it’s something you want to keep secret, of course.”

“I was outed this morning,” Freddie volunteered. They all looked at him with raised eyebrows. “I corrected someone who was trying to speak Latin at an Arts department meeting. Their translation and pronunciation was beyond horrible and I simply could not restrain myself. Bitch slapped them totally, and said that if they were going to quote Plato, then it needed to be correct.” He sighed, taking a sip of tea. “I need to be more careful about sneaking in to the historical archives,” he mused. “I don’t want anyone in the Arts department suspecting that not only am I getting a doctorate, but that it is *not* in Arts. I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces when they find out at graduation.”

“Good for you,” Roger said firmly. John gave a little snarl at the prospect of the Arts department getting anything from Freddie other than his backside.

“They don’t deserve you,” John said, and Brian and Roger smiled at John’s protectiveness. 

*****

At Easter time, with just a month to go, Freddie got serious about costumes. One evening at Freddie’s was spent just going over clothes and they had fortunately planned to spend the night because it turned into quite the ordeal. 

“Your outfits are laid out on the beds,” Freddie said as he greeted them at the door. “Get settled in and then after dinner we’ll try them on. Awwww,” he cooed, seeing Brian with a large pet travel kennel and a backpack of supplies. “Here, let me help you. I have your bedroom all set up.”

“I hope Lacy doesn’t mind giving up her bedroom,” Brian smiled, feeling a bit bad about kicking out the cat for the evening. “Sorry about the babysitter cancelling at the last minute.”

“These things happen. And Lacy is perfectly fine sharing with me and Delilah tonight,” Freddie assured him. He took the pet kennel and peaked through the blanket covering. “My goodness, who do we have here?” he cooed, his voice all soft and sweet and at least an octave higher than his normal speaking range.

“Clover and Cinnamon, orphan badgers,” Brian said. Roger snorted, and John smacked the blond on his arm.

“Be nice,” he said sternly.

“Hey, I am nice,” Roger protested. “I didn’t say a word about the triples Brian had last week.” He winked. “Just not sort of triples I would care to have in my bedroom.”

John smacked his arm again and Freddie glared as he helped Brian get the orphans upstairs and settled safely in a cat-free bedroom.

Brian should have suspected something as Freddie kept the wine flowing generously during dinner, but brushed it off. Freddie was simply a great host. Brian kept meaning to find out the name of caterer for the vegetarian meals that Freddie always had on hand day and night…they were amazing. After dinner, they were herded upstairs and each disappeared into their bedrooms for the big fitting.

Brian gulped as he pulled on the clothes. Tight – very tight - leather pants and a billowy shirt with wide sleeves. Certainty nothing he had worn before. Looking in the mirror, he blushed.

“Alright, come on out, mates,” Roger yelled from the hallway, cheerful as always when he wasn’t fighting for John’s honor and protection. “I know you’re in there!” Brian took a deep breath and opened the door.

Roger was standing in the hallway, wearing tight leather pants and an open vest, looking confident and amazing. The long wig truly transformed him into a rock star. Then Freddie emerged from his bedroom in a skin-tight leather costume, complete with a wide sparkle belt and his own dark wig firmly in place.

“Wow, we look great!” Roger enthused. He and Freddie exchanged fist-bumps and broad grins. Freddie looked each of the other men over with a professional eye, adjusting Roger’s wig just a tad, checking the sleeves on Brian’s shirt and the (very tight) waistband, and then nodded in satisfaction. 

“Perfect,” he said, clearly pleased with himself. 

“I feel a bit like a fool,” Brian protested. “I can’t believe I am doing this.”

“Lie back and think of England’s animals, dear,” Freddie counseled. 

Roger snorted, doubling over with laughter, and Brian glared.

Then all three turn to the door that was firmly still closed.

“John, darling?” Freddie called.

“No,” John said simply. Oh dear, it was his flat stubborn voice. Department chairmen had been known to cry when confronted with that icy tone. Fortunately, Freddie was temporarily tone deaf.

“What’s wrong, my dear?”

“The clothes are too tight!” 

“Darling, they are supposed to be,” Freddie tried to reassure him. All three of the other men now gathered around the door.

“I’ve seen you in a swim suit at the faculty pool, John,” Roger said, honestly trying to be helpful. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Come on now, mate. I’m sure you look fine.”

“I’m telling you, the clothes are all too tight! You measured wrong, Freddie!”

Oh, now that had been an interesting night. Freddie had whipped out a measuring tape after dinner and had gone after John first, rightfully suspecting that the engineer would run once he realized what was going on. Thankfully, Freddie had worked his magic and gotten John to agree to a full set of measurements with he and Freddie alone in the guest floor bathroom (Roger had taken point at the front door, and Brian had been warned to watch the other exits just in case John made a break for it). 

“See, that wasn’t so bad was it,” Freddie practically cooed as they emerged a few minutes later. “And look! Pudding as a reward.” Dark eyes appraised Brian and Roger as John dived into the pudding. “Brian, come with me, dear,” he ordered suspecting that he’d best tackle the taller man next before he lost his nerve.

Brian moaned, and walked as if a man to his death. Freddie gushing over the length of his legs had not helped the situation. When Brian was set free, he stole some pudding from John and they commiserated while Roger and Freddie could be heard laughing in glee during Roger’s measurements. 

Now Freddie was doing his best to get the engineer to come out of the bedroom. “I never measure wrong, darling,” Freddie insisted in a firm but kind tone. “These were specially made for you.”

“You reversed the measurements, maybe with Brian,” John said, sounding quite desperate and clutching at straws. “The pants are too tight, and the shirt is too low cut. I’m an engineer; I know measurements.”

“And I know clothing, John,” Freddie replied gently. “Please, dear, it’s just us. Let me have a look and then we can decide together, alright?”

“John, we all look a bit…different,” Brian said. He looked at Freddie apologetically, who shrugged. Come on, it’s alright.”

“Here, here,” Roger said, waving his phone. “John, we are going to send you pictures of us, okay? Check your phone, mate. See? Nothing to worry about.” Brian made himself smile while Freddie and Roger mugged for the camera. Roger really did deserve points for being helpful and supportive. 

“Can we please just see you, John?” Freddie implored. “Look at the pictures and see what we look like. Let us then have a look now at you, alight? There is nothing to be embarrassed about.”

A few minutes later, pictures received and apparently reviewed, there was an audible sigh, and John opened the door.

“Bloody Hell,” Freddie said in awe. Roger’s jaw dropped a bit, and Brian blinked. 

John looked….breathtaking. There was really no other word. The dark clothing did indeed cling to his body, showcasing a surprisingly athletic build. Long legs, graceful arms and hands, and even the bright red flush on his face and chest – made clearly visibly by the low cut shirt - just made him look even more vibrant. And his hair….Freddie had found the perfect wig match for John’s natural hair, and the long waves framed his face, making him look even younger. He really did look like a 70’s rock idol brought to life.

The engineer crossed his arms, visibly covering himself, and Roger made himself pick his jaw up off the floor and Brian made himself stop starring. They didn’t want John to feel even more embarrassed than he obviously already was. Freddie clucked, his hands gently taking John’s arms. 

“Let me check, my dear,” he said kindly. John submitted to Freddie very cautiously and professionally checking the clothing, being careful to keep his touches light and restricted to mostly John’s arms, shoulders, and knees, with just one quick pat at the waist. “John, darling, I know it feels tight, and not what you are accustomed to, but it is not *too* tight or too low cut. The clothing fits you perfectly; nothing vulgar at all if that is what you are thinking. I would never dress you in anything vulgar or offensive. It is a different style for you indeed, but nothing scandalous or distasteful in any manner.”

“You look great, John,” Roger said reassuringly. “I mean, if you want to see seriously tight pants, check out—”

“Ahem!” Brian said, giving Roger a pointed look. Even Freddie glared at their drummer. The blond promptly shut up, amazingly. 

“If people look, then it is just because of how good you look.” Freddie continued. “They are fucking jealous, and that is a fact.”

“John, you really do look good,” Brian said, knowing John needed support from all of them. “You know us, John, we’re being honest with you. Yes, it’s different from how we usually dress…except Freddie, of course.” The designer just smiled, shrugging modestly at the honest statement. “But seriously, John, there is nothing to be embarrassed about and its exactly what we need for the show.”

“And it is just for the show,” Roger said, his tone sincere. “This one time, mate. No one expects you to dress like this after the show. And you will be with us every single second while you are in costume. Hell, most folks won’t it’s even you until they read the program. It’s alright, mate, we got you. No one is going to leave you alone for second, I promise. And you know I will kill anyone who says anything to you.” Coming from Roger, it was like a wedding vow. He was vowing to protect and defend his friend.

Freddie patted John’s shoulder. “Darling, if you truly want, I will take out some of the seams and make it looser, I swear. And I will do it tonight, plus add more material to the chest to cover you up more if you like. But will you just try for just a few hours? See how it feels when we’re playing? It is for a performance, dear, and not every day wear at all. I know it’s out of your comfort zone, and I am so proud of you being willing to do all this at all. Let’s just practice, here at home, alone, and see how you feel, and then I promise that if you want, I will adjust the outfit tonight.”

John bit his lip, thinking, obviously torn. “Alright,” he finally agreed, his voice a bit soft and nervous.

Freddie and Roger took his arms and gently supported him on the walk to the music room, encouraging him all the way. Once downstairs and started on the music, John seemed to either forget about the clothes or not care anymore. Either way, at the end of evening he very reluctantly agreed to stick with the outfit as it was. Freddie and Roger both looked so proud they about burst, and Roger hugged John fiercely.

“We got you, mate,” Roger assured him.

“You will destroy the entire Arts department,” Freddie vowed.

Brian filled their glasses and they toasted to their pact to wear the costumes as designed. John still looked understandably nervous, but he drank the toast.

“Every weekend now, full dress rehearsal,” Freddie planned, mostly for John’s benefit. “We need to get used to full costumes. And I think it will truly enhance the mood of the songs. Brain – just plan on bringing the hedgehogs, badgers, or whatever. It’s warm enough now to safely transport them. Your guest bedroom is now a cat-free zone on weekends. My driver will pick you up Saturday afternoons and we spend the night and Sunday morning together. We need to bond as a group now in full costume and playing songs for hours.”

“Hey, some of my best dates are Saturdays,” Roger complained.

“We all need to make sacrifices, for the good of the band, darling,” Freddie told him. Roger frowned a bit, but then pulled out his phone and starter multitasking his social agenda.

The next weekend, Freddie brought out three trays of jewelry, one for each man. Now it was Roger’s turn to blink at the assortment that was put in front of him.

“Ummm…. isn’t this a bit much?” he said. Coming from Roger, that was quite a statement.

“Not at all,” Freddie said, helping put a jeweled choker on John. They were all proud of how John had obviously decided to put himself in Freddie’s hands and roll with it. “Oh, and there are the shoes.”

Brian swallowed nervously. “Clogs? I’m not tall enough already?”

“Be proud of your height, dear,” Freddie encouraged. “Stand up straight; don’t slouch.” 

“Yes, Mum.”

“Hey, I want those earrings!”

“They don’t match your shirt, dear.”

“Owe! Watch it with those rings!”

“If I fall off these heels and break an ankle it is *all* your fault.”

“If I trip over your shoes, then it’s all your fault!”

“What’s with the arm bands?”

“Oh, never mind. Just a style touch.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I can’t breathe; the choker is too tight.”

“That’s why it’s called a choker, my dear, but by all means, let me loosen it a bit for you.”

“People actually performed like this?”

“Bloody Hell! The wrist band just got jammed in my fingers.”

“I think I just tore my ear lobe.”

“I think I just cut myself on a ring. Where are the band aids?”

“Hehee….*band* aids.”

“Very funny, Roger.”

“Practice! Full dress rehearsals!”

Fully outfitted head to toe, all on board with the outfits, they launched into serious hardcore rehearsals.   
*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out the official “Liar” video…that is the look that I am imagining…..
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oU7rqB9E_0M
> 
> In my mind, there are about 3-4 songs that I picture them playing. It doesn’t really matter which song you imagine. At the end of the story, I will list what I came up with. Please chime in with your thoughts! Rules are: 70’s – 1980 rock, and obviously cannot be a Queen song 😊 And…..go!


	5. Performance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Performing Arts department has no idea what is about to hit them (apologies to all artists!).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see end notes. As always, great thanks to Americanithink for proofreading and assistance!

The day of the Talent Show dawned bright and clear, despite Brian and John’s secret hopes of a storm that would cause a cancellation. John was still holding out hope of an earthquake that would topple the entire Arts building.

Freddie insisted on having his driver and van pick the other three up and going as a group to the theater building. Brian and John had their guitars while Freddie handled the logistics for the drums and all their outfits. Brian suspected the Freddie was in charge of the costumes since he was taking no chances that someone would ‘forget’ their outfit at home.

Freddie had arranged for a classroom to be used as their dressing room, and he was in his natural element as they changed into costumes behind screens (after repeatedly assuring John that no, they could not see him; not even a racy silhouette), and got ready. He checked each man over head to toe, securing John and Roger’s wigs and combing through Brian’s hair. It had grown so long that more than one colleague – and a few students – had commented favorably on it. Brian just blushed and shrugged. 

There was even makeup, which Brian and John had *not* been anticipating, but by this point, they knew they were in for the duration. Freddie persuaded them on “just a light” dusting of foundation, eye makeup, and lipstick and they all submitted. Brian thought he looked like a gangly fool, but John and Roger looked great.

The performances started, but Freddie insisted they stay hidden in the dressing room - “to make an entrance, darlings,” he said. One of his students was keeping an eye on the event, and was ready to signal them when it was their time.

After a warm up, it was just waiting for their time to go on stage. Roger was drumming on his knees, obviously building up some energy. Brian and John did a last check with their guitars.

Freddie kept their spirits up, producing a bottle and they all passed it around. John took an especially generous shot and Roger had to pull the bottle away. 

“Easy now,” he cautioned, grinning. John shook his head.

“We’re going to die!” he wailed.

“Nonsense!” Freddie stepped up and took hold of John’s shoulders, giving them a very gentle squeeze to snap John out of his panic. “Look at us darling; we sound amazing and we look even more amazing.”

Brian took a look at all of them. Four college professors. All currently wearing tight leather pants, jewelry, three of them in long wigs (for the first time in his life, Brian gave thanks that he had long curly hair). Makeup. Good Lord, platform boots. Clogs. So, so, much makeup and jewelry.

John was right. Brian grabbed the bottle from Roger and took a long drink. “We’re going to die,” he moaned, in total agreement with their bassist.

Freddie sighed and felt free to give the taller man an actual slap on the arm. “Brian, darling, look at *her*.” For a moment Brian had no idea what Freddie was taking about, but then he saw Freddie pointing to the case where the Red Special was safely tucked away, waiting for her owner.

“Do you think she is going to let you down?” Freddie said, his tone completely serious.

“I’m afraid that I will let her down,” Brian admitted.

“You won’t. None of us will. We’ve practiced for months, and we all know what to do. Trust in yourself.”

Roger grabbed the bottle from Brian. “We’re going to---” He stopped dramatically and grinned. “Nahhhh! We’re going to be amazing!” he yelled. “Come on, John, we all know what those theater twits can do with themselves! We’re amazing musicians and we got the whole damn package. No holding back; let it rip!”

“Yes!” Freddie shouted back. “That’s the spirit! Come on, lads!”

The door burst open and Freddie’s student came running in. “You’re on in 5 minutes!” she said excitedly. 

Freddie clapped his hands and turned his fierce gaze on the other three. “Focus!” he ordered. “Roger – play so hard that I expect to see broken drum sticks. Brian – do it for the animals. John – revenge, darling, revenge!”

With that pep talk, the four tore off down the hallway and got into position behind the curtains.

“And now, ladies and gentleman, let’s give a huge round of applause for four of our professors, all from different departments, coming together in the group Queen!” the student MC announced. Brian clutched his guitar, John looked ready to faint. Roger was twirling his drumsticks and Freddie turned to face them with a huge grin on his face.

“Ready?”

John stepped up, jaw set in sudden fierce determination. “Ready Freddie,” he said with a fire that they rarely heard in his voice. Those two words were the best possible pep talk ever.

And they ran out on stage.

***

They didn’t die.

Brian didn’t remember too much about the actual performance really. A lot of screaming, a lot of noise. But some things stood out.

Freddie was all over the stage once he left the piano, pulling out all the stops. At one point Brian had a vague memory of Freddie ripping open his shirt, spinning a half mic stand, and the audience went wild.

Roger tore up the drum kit and sang perfectly, backing up Freddie on vocals. When he hit the falsetto notes, Brian was fairly certain in retrospect that a group of students quit school right then and there so they would no longer be students and thus could hopefully be on Roger’s date list (too bad they didn’t realize that he didn’t date ex-students either).

John - John was *dancing*, totally lost in the music and the moment. And he did look fantastic, and sang wonderfully despite all his earlier protests. He got right up to the front of the stage and may or may not have given the middle finger to the Performing Arts department head. It was hard to tell; it could have been just a chord change on the bass guitar.

Brian saw a group of students run to the foot of the stage, screaming and taking pictures, and he grinned broadly, concentrating on the song and working the Red Special for all she had. She didn’t let him down for a single note.

And if he shook his head in time to the music, letting his hair fly all over, well, what the Hell.

It was pretty amazing.

Then there were done, bowing, and for God’s sake, students were throwing things on stage…. flowers, papers with scribbled phone numbers, a couple stuffed animals, and Freddie just milked it for all it was worth. Roger was right up there with him, dragging John and Brian up to take bows at the front of the stage. Then they went backstage, still all high on the excitement of the show.

“Oh my God, we didn’t die!”

“Of course not!

“That was so cool!”

“I think my fingers are bleeding.”

“I think I lost an earring…”

“John! You were you dancin—“

“No, I was not!”

“Were too!”

“Were not!”

“Were too!”

“Other than the fact that I think I may have dislocated an ankle, clogs really aren’t all that bad….” 

“No worries, darling! We were amazing!”

They were one of the last acts, and it was just a few minutes later that the student judges unanimously announced that Queen was the winner of the show. 

Freddie rounded them up and back on stage to accept the trophy, grabbing the mic and yelling encouragement back at the screaming students. “Thank you, we love you, darlings! Remember, those who do not study History are doomed to repeat it and historians have over 6,000 years of experience! And don’t forget that Dr. Taylor has an amazingly strict dating policy, so good fucking luck! I mean, *I’m* off limits – can believe it?” 

Roger kissed his drumsticks and threw them into the crowd where students scrambled to get them, knowing it was the closest they would ever get to a kiss from the teacher. 

John most definitely gave Performing Arts department chairman the middle finger while posing for pictures with the trophy. Brian laughed so hard that he nearly fell off his clogs.

Freddie led them in triumph back to the pub where they had first met, insisting on a celebration party, everyone still in full costume. The student band performing there cheered when they arrived, apparently alerted by texts from fellow students, and pulled their teachers up on stage to join them for a long and raucous jam session. Brian was touched when it was seemed that nearly every Engineering student had suddenly appeared and were cheering on John.

“Why do we become Engineers?” John screamed into the mic.

“So we can build the Iron Man suit!” yelled back an entire section of the bar in unison.

“Why should you date an engineer?” John continued, still high on nothing but adrenaline, and leading his fan section with confidence. 

“Because we do it with precision!”

“Because we strip more than wires!”

“Because Friction and Lubrication are actual classes!”

“Bloody Hell, I think I need to get another degree,” Freddie confided to Brian, fanning himself. “Or at least audit some classes. I wonder how many of my architect design classes would transfer to the Engineering department…”

Roger, of course, was holding his own. Brian and Freddie both winced, though, at some of his pick-up lines, making mental notes to talk to him soon:

“Would you like me to teach you how to floss?”

“You’re a piece of eye candy, and I have a sweet tooth.”

John snorted, picking up a round of drinks for the section that was drawing weapons for all the superheroes (Brian knew he should be worried, but honestly didn’t care at that moment). “Seriously? “*Those* pick up lines get him laid? Please. He is obviously getting by on his looks.” 

“Well, a college bar is not on his allowed hunting grounds, dear,” Freddie said thoughtfully. “I assume he is just joking around with those lines. Maybe practicing them.”

“I hope so, for his sake.” John put his nose in the air and returned to where his students were plotting world domination via engineering.

Not to be outdone, every one of Brian’s graduate students suddenly appeared and started their own cheer section. After a few drinks, they started trading jokes that only astronomers could appreciate and that was fine by all of them.

Q: How many ears does Captain Kirk have?  
A: Three. A left ear, a right ear, and a final frontier!

Q: Why does a moon rock taste better than an Earth rock?  
A: It’s a little meteor!

Two atoms bump into each other. One says “I’ve lost an electron.” “Are you sure?” “Yes, I’m positive.”

Freddie deserted Brian and went to hang out with the history students.

Q: How was the Roman Empire cut in half?  
A: With a pair of Caesars.

Q: Who's the biggest prostitute in history?  
A: Ms. Pacman, because for 25 cents that b*tch swallowed balls till she died.

They closed down the bar, and Freddie’s (very sober and professional) driver picked them up and safely delivered them back to Freddie’s house.

When Brian awoke the next morning, lying on the floor of Freddie’s living room, he had one shoe (not his), and many texts from the animal sanctuary, thanking him for the ginormous donations that had poured in overnight. (He had a vague and very uncomfortable memory of agreeing to take off his shirt on stage at the bar in return for online pledges to the shelter…..Freddie had started it; he would blame Freddie. Yeah, that seemed like a good life plan going forward).

Roger was frantically sorting through phone numbers (some written on his body with sharpie markers), trying to eliminate which were students or faculty.

John, still in his costume and wig, was cackling…honestly cackling…with glee as he worked on designs for the latest student Iron Man suit and some secret project that he refused to divulge. 

Freddie was making tea and smirking as he fed the cats.

***

The next week….

John simply shrugged at the news from the Registrar that many new students wanted to enroll in his classes, and said it was a good thing that kids were paying attention to engineering again. If he rigged all the computers in the Performing Arts building so that the screen savers said ‘LOSERS’ well, it wasn’t nothing that a decent tech department couldn’t fix….with a few days of intense work and re-programming.

Brian decided to keep growing his hair and just see what the Hell happened. It was flattering to be nick-named Sir Isaac, in his humble opinion. He was grateful for all the donations to the animal shelter and took in another set of triplets (orphan hedgehogs; John smacked Roger upside the head when the dentist made a lewd comment at lunch).

Roger cursed his self-imposed strict policy of not dating students, former students, or colleagues, but kept to it, thank you very much.

Freddie defended his thesis, had a paper approved for publication in a highly respected historical journal, and confirmed that he would be delighted to walk in the graduation ceremony to formally receive his doctorate. He also agreed to teach another year – this time for the History Department - and would formally be Doctor Mercury, teaching classes in ancient historical design and trade. He had also heard about the Faculty Trivial Pursuit contest in the fall, and was making big plans for he and his friends. Together they would be an unstoppable group.

And besides, Queen had been asked to perform at the end of school year student dance. And at the school summer dance. The student pub all summer. Fall dance. Winter dance. And many other dates. Freddie had them booked for gigs every month. He just had to tell his bandmates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone, for reading this story. I do plan for free-standing snippets from the Universe because it has been so much fun (and you can see I left it open for more stories). Please let me know if you have any prompts or requests! This has now turned into a series :-)
> 
> Here are the songs I visualized them playing at the talent show:
> 
> “Stairway to Heaven” – Led Zeppelin  
> “Anyway you want it” - Journey  
> “Dream on” - Aerosmith  
> “You shook me all night long” – AC/DC  
> “Bat out of Hell” - Meatloaf
> 
> Costumes were just like in the official “Liar’ video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oU7rqB9E_0M

**Author's Note:**

> I got the titles for Roger and John from the internet (not sorry). DMD and C.Eng are the highest official degrees for dentists and engineers according the British education system. Brian is Doctor May since he has a full PhD. Roger is Doctor Taylor since he is a true medical doctor. Brian and Roger would also be considered “Professors” since they teach classes. John would be addressed as “Professor” in a university setting since he teaches classes, has master projects/patents, and has the British equivalent of a PhD in Engineering. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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